Venting Spleen (general readers)

Avon was surprised to wake. He was even more surprised to find himself lying on his side and looking into the equally alive, and annoyed, face of Roj Blake. He tried to move, and panicked when none of his limbs would respond. In fact, he couldn't feel any sensation below the neck.

"Ah. You have no guts. So why aren't we both dead? Or are we?" Avon tried again to look around, but all he could see was bits of plain metal walls. Or bulkheads if they were on a ship, as Blake claimed. "This doesn't look much like any of the classical descriptions of hell."

"After Klyn's emergency call flooded the tracking gallery with sono vapour Dr Finklestein scraped us all up off the floor and did some very creative emergency stabilization work. We're cross-connected. My heart is pumping our blood and your body is handling the filtration and cleansing. I don't know how he jiggered the blood to be compatible, but it seems to be working."

Avon was silent for a long moment. "This is disgusting."

"And boring. I've been awake for hours and everyone else is too busy to talk with me. Your crew needed medical attention, too - not that you'd bother to ask about them."

"It's bad luck to mention the dead."

"Your beta superstitions are ridiculous."

Avon pouted.

Blake went on, "I had to argue with Finklestein before he'd let you come around. He was considering simply letting you die once I don't need you."